


A Good Walk Spoiled

by PurpleWyrm



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleWyrm/pseuds/PurpleWyrm
Summary: Sigrun getting bored is never a good thing...





	A Good Walk Spoiled

Mikkel considered the pile of catalogued books with a sense of satisfaction.  
  
True, none of them were particularly valuable, and it was also true that there were many more still uncatalogued in the back of the tank, but here at least were twenty books thoroughly described, organised, and - in one case - repaired where the kitten had decided to test out her claws. A morning's work well done.  
  
He sat back in the creaking chair and listened to the sounds from outside the hut. The clanking of tools as Tuuri repaired whatever malfunctioning chunk of engine had necessitated this stop, and Reynir's off-key humming as he hung up the recently washed laundry. Emil and Sigrun were out there too somewhere, presumably patrolling the walkway around the top of the walls, and Lalli - well, to be honest he had no idea what the Finn was doing, but whatever it was was pleasantly quiet. All in all this unscheduled stop was a welcome break from the trials of the expedition.  
  
It had been two days earlier that the tank's ongoing engine troubles had reached a fiery crescendo. A hastily fetched bucket of water had resolved the immediate crisis, but Tuuri had indicated that without a thorough break down and clean of the offending components, unscheduled stops to extinguish the motor would become a daily fact of life. The job wouldn't take more than about a day she claimed, a day and a half at most and it would provide the chance to do some other much needed maintenance. Sigrun had finally - after repeated explanations of why neither fire nor water were good for electric motors - concurred and the map was consulted for a suitable location to hole up for a few days.  
  
The site decided on was one of the scattered forward bases constructed by the Danes during their failed reclamation attempt. This one was sited on top of an ancient fortress just short of the Storebælt bridge, only about a day's drive away from the team's location.  
  
The ancient fort - a ring shaped bank of dirt constructed on a patch of swampy ground between a couple of rivers - had been topped by a wall of prefabricated steel several metres high. On arrival in the late afternoon the team had discovered that - as hoped - the walls were still intact and the gate chained shut. Some quick work with a crowbar allowed Sigrun to lead a foray into the interior and it was quickly confirmed that it was safely grossling free. Tuuri carefully inched the tank over the rickety bridge and through the gate (with only a couple of inches spare on each side) and they were able to close and brace the steel panneled doors, securing probably the most protected campsite this side of the Øresund.  
  
The evening had been spent setting up the camp, laying out the defences - no excuse to be complacent - and conducting a more detailed search of the various prefabricated buildings that filled the interior. Hopes that the retreating Danes may have left some useful supplies were soon dashed, they had apparently taken all their food and fuel with them leaving only a few pieces of furniture, a mess of empty ration tins, a pile of by now very mouldy blankets and a crate of rusted grenades that looked so unstable Mikkel had immediately declared the entire hut containing them out of bounds.  
  
After a good night's sleep Tuuri had got to work tearing down the motor. Sigrun and Emil had set up a rota for patrolling the walkway running around the crest of the walls and Mikkel had got to work cataloguing their collection of books. He was initially assisted by Reynir, but it soon became apparent that the Icelander's inability to understand Danish made him more of a hindrance than a help, so Mikkel sent him off to handle the laundry instead.  
  
All in all things were going well for once.  
  
_**BOOM!**_  
  
That was strange... It had been cloudy all day but it hadn't felt like thunder...  
  
_**BOOM!**_  
  
That wasn't thunder.  
  
Mikkel leapt to his feet, memories of Kastrup swimming in his head. He charged out of the prefab into the assembly yard.  
  
Tuuri and Reynir were both frozen, staring up at the battlements. Mikkel ran for them, opening his mouth to yell for them to don their masks and get into the tank, but before he could get out a word he collided heavily with Emil who had come charging around the corner of a prefab.  
  
Mikkel scrambled back to his feet. The Swede lay on the ground, his face pale and drawn, his jaw moving frantically up and down apparently unable to form any words. He gestured desperately towards the ramparts where Sigrun was supposed to be on patrol.  
  
Mikkel nodded and ran for the nearest staircase. As he clattered up the steps he heard a loud, distinctly Norwegian shriek followed by a  _thwack_  and another, much louder  _ **BOOM**_. He had a sudden grim foreboding of what he would find at the top.  
  
He was broadly correct - although he could never have conceived of  _all_  the details.  
  
On the firing step at the highest point of the wall stood Sigrun, brandishing a denuded tree branch.  _"FIVE!"_  she shrieked, and swung the branch down, sending a grenade hurtling through the air. It arced lazily for a few seconds before detonating thunderously.  
  
Mikkel stared at her in shock.  
  
_"FIVE!"_  she shrieked again, sending another grenade flying. Mikkel noticed - to his horror - that she had the entire grenade crate just along the walkway and a series of the rusted explosives lined up along the wall top. She swung the branch back, readying for another swing...  
  
_"WHAT IN THE NAME OF SANITY ARE YOU DOING!?"_  Mikkel roared, finally finding his voice.  
  
She glanced around.  
  
"Oh, hey Mikkel!" She straightened up and wiped her brow "I'm practicing my swing!"  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"My swing! For Sigrolf!"  
  
Mikkel wondered if he had gone insane without noticing it. He glared at the grenades, at Sigrun, at the tree branch she was clutching and back at Sigrun again. Her trousers were rolled up to her knees and she had fashioned a strange, flat cap out of a piece of Danish blanket.  
  
"Sig... rolf?"  
  
"Sigrolf! Short for Sigrun's golf! Sort of rolls off the tongue doesn't it?"  
  
Mikkel plonked heavily onto the firing step.  
  
"Wha... you... golf?"  
  
"Yeah" Sigrun hopped down. "See, I got thinking about that 'golf' game from that book we found. At first I thought it sounded really dumb and boring, I mean, hitting a ball into a tiny hole, that's not fun for anyone. But when I saw that crate full of grenades I realised they were the perfect thing to make the game more exciting! So I got Emil to help me haul them up here, and here we are!"  
  
A number of conflicting risk assessments competed for control of Mikkel's tongue. One finally fought its way to the front of the queue.  
  
"But... the noise!"  
  
"Oh there's no need to worry about  _that_ " Sigrun replied, waving her club for emphasis. "You Danes may have screwed up reclaiming this place, but you build really solid walls." She banged the club on the nearest panel. "My right hand warrior and I" she gestured down to where Tuuri and Reynir were sponging a collapsed Emil's forehead with a damp pillow case "would take down any grosslings  _way_  before they climbed over!"  
  
"But..." Mikkel started weakly.  
  
"It's fine!" Sigrun continued. "I've got it all worked out! Sigrolf is a hundred times better than old time golf and you don't even have to worry about aiming for some stupid tiny hole. In Sigrolf you  _make_  a hole wherever the ball lands!  _FIVE!!_ "  
  
She leapt back onto the step and launched another grenade. Mikkel dove for cover.  
  
"Why... why do you keep shouting that!?" he yelled over the detonation.  
  
"Well the book said you have to shout 'four', but Sigrolf is much better than golf so you have to shout 'five'!"  
  
Mikkel rejected the idea of explaining this misapprehension, and instead went for the heart of the matter.  
  
"This is  _ridiculously_  unsafe!"  
  
"No it isn't!  _FIVE!!_ " Sigrun swung again but this time caught the grenade awkwardly causing it to leap vertically into the air. She dropped her club and leapt on Mikkel, somehow somersaulting off his back and dropping into cover just as the grenade exploded a few feet away.  
  
"See! You just need to know when to duck!" She stood up and dusted herself off "Sigrolf promotes excellent reflexes!"  
  
Mikkel pulled himself shakily to his feet. He took a deep breath.  
  
"Sigrun, for the sake of the expedition I'm going to have to insist..."  
  
"Oh hey!" Sigrun commented brightly, leaping back on the step "He's back!"  
  
"Who..." started Mikkel, but following Sigrun's gaze he spotted Lalli sprinting out from behind a nearby cluster of overgrown buildings.  
  
"You sent him out of the fort without advising...?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, time for that later! This is where things get  _good!_ " She cracked her knuckles in glee.  
  
"Good?"  
  
"Yeah! I sent the twig out to bring back some targets!"  
  
"Wha...  _TARGETS!?_ "  
  
"Yeah! Whacking grenades around is great for practice, but it's hardly a game if you don't have something to aim at!"  
  
A large, misshapen creature lurched around the buildings, hot on Lalli's tail.  
  
"Awesome!!" Sigrun cackled. "I'll need my five iron for  _this!_ " She dropped the tree branch, replacing it with a bent section of metal pipe grabbed from behind the grenade box.  
  
"Now, we just need one more thing..." she mused as the creature lurched closer to the fort.  
  
As if on cue the giant opened a mouth large enough to swallow the entire team in one gulp. It let out a horrifying, ululating wail. Sigrun started swinging the pipe wildly...  
  
_"FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!"_  
  
Five grenades shot though the air in rapid succession. They flew far, descending in graceful arcs, plummeting one after the other straight into the creature's open maw. Lalli, by now almost at the fort wall, threw himself to the ground with his arms over his head.  
  
The giant slowed, then stopped, apparently puzzled by the foreign objects that had plunged unbidden down its gullet. It made an almost quizzical gurgling sound, peering at the fort.  
  
It then disintegrated in a titanic explosion.  
  
As the booming echoes faded away, Mikkel looked up from below the step where he'd instinctively thrown himself for cover. Sigrun - seemingly unperturbed - pulled a small pad and pencil out of her pocket and scribbled something down.  
  
"Five holes in one, not bad" she muttered. She cupped her hands around her mouth.  
  
"Caddy!"  
  
Lalli looked up.  
  
"That's it for today! Get cleaned up and I'll see you back at the clubhouse!"  
  
The Finn shrugged, pulled himself to his feet and jogged off towards the fort entrance.  
  
Sigrun turned back to Mikkel  
  
"I can tell you, this is gonna be a big hit back home in Dalsnes! Especially when we can use some  _real_  explosives instead of these piddly little grenades!"  
  
A vision swam before Mikkel's eyes. An army of crazed Norwegians descending from the mountains with golf clubs in hand, raining destruction on the lands below. All wore flat caps and short, checked trousers, and some rode in small, goat-propelled carts. He gazed northwards apprehensively.  
  
He had a horrible feeling that Sigrun was entirely correct.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 SSSS Forum Advent Calendar. Yes, it's taken me over a year to post it (whoops).
> 
> The story fits in between pages 545 and 546 of the first Adventure. The campsite is the Trelleborg Viking ring fortress near Slagelse. It is quite impressive and something the Danes would want to secure for both it's location and historical significance (or at least that's what I'm telling myself).


End file.
